Chapter 15

I stood frozen in Elijah’s study, completely stunned by his words. His calm, steady tone was so casual, yet the authority behind it felt like a punch to the gut. My mind raced, trying to process what he had just said.

“What?” I blurted, unable to hide the confusion in my voice.

How could he be so calm about this?

Elijah leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine.

“A Luna doesn’t need to prove to the pack that she didn’t do something,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “What matters is that she knows her truth and moves with confidence.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. How could he say that so easily? That rumor had ruined me before, I didn’t see why it wouldn’t do the same now.

“But if I don’t prove myself, the rumors will only get worse,” I protested, my voice rising in frustration. “That’s how I got expelled in the first place—because I couldn’t provide evidence.”

Elijah’s expression remained unreadable, as if my protest hadn’t affected him in the slightest.

“You don’t need to prove what you didn’t do,” he said, his tone measured. “All you need to prove is that the paper wasn’t your professor’s creation.”

My heart stuttered. Could it really be that simple? The thought had never occurred to me.

I’d been so caught up in defending myself, trying to prove what I hadn’t done, that I’d never considered another angle.

“The next step is finding a way to make that clear,” Elijah continued, as if reading my thoughts. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur, my thoughts racing faster than I could control.

It wasn’t until the next day that I realized just how serious Elijah was. He had arranged an interview with my former college professor, Professor Dalton, under the guise of a professional discussion about the possibility of branching the Silvermoon company into academia.

The moment I walked into the room; I felt my heart tighten in my chest. There he was—the man who had single-handedly destroyed my academic career. Dalton sat across from me, clueless to the real reason he was here.

Elijah was setting up the computer and camera that showed his board of trustees the office and Professor Dalton in real-time. Elijah had expertly disguised the interview as a favor, subtly hinting that an esteemed position might be in the professor’s future if the conversation went well.

I took my seat across from Dalton, feeling the tension in my shoulders rise. Elijah sat quietly on the couch to the side, observing like a wolf watching his prey. The room was silent, save for the ticking of a clock somewhere in the background.

Elijah began with a few neutral questions, easing Dalton into the conversation. The professor answered smoothly at first, clearly confident in his responses. But I could see the trap being laid—slowly, methodically.

Elijah shifted the conversation, guiding it toward my thesis, the one Dalton had claimed as his own.

I felt my pulse quicken. This was the moment I’d been dreading and anticipating in equal measure.

“My mate’s paper,” Elijah began smoothly, “contained an interesting section on ancient werewolf totems, which you described in your interview as original research. Can you elaborate?”

I stiffened at the word "mate," but there was no time to dwell on it now. Dalton, on the other hand, smiled, completely unaware of the shift in tone. He launched into a rehearsed explanation of the "research" he’d conducted, claiming the insights as his own.

That was his mistake.

The totems had been a pivotal part of my thesis. I had spent countless hours poring over ancient texts, researching obscure folklore that barely anyone knew existed. My original draft, the one Dalton had stolen, didn’t contain the proper citations, but I knew the sources inside and out.

And now, so did Elijah. I was impressed that he had taken the time to look at my paper and he’d even asked me about the research itself, and I’d pointed to some academic texts I had used for the research, which he’d pored over in preparation for this discussion as well.

Elijah’s gaze sharpened, and I could almost feel him reeling Dalton in.

“Interesting,” he mused, his voice still calm. “Especially considering the information you described matches a passage from Mystical Symbols of the Forgotten Clans—a rare text.”

My breath caught in my throat. That was it. That was the moment.

Dalton froze, his face paling as he realized his mistake. He faltered, stammering over his words.

“I—well, it’s possible I was inspired by… external sources…”

I didn’t wait. I jumped in, my voice stronger than I expected.

“No, Professor. You didn’t cite Mystical Symbols of the Forgotten Clans. Because you didn’t know it existed.”

Dalton’s eyes darted toward me, his confidence crumbling. I pressed on, feeling something inside me ignite.

“That research was mine. You stole it. You claimed it as your own, but you never even bothered to read the original sources.”

The room fell into a tense silence. Dalton’s face turned red, his lips twitching as he tried to come up with an excuse, but it was too late. The trap had already closed around him

Elijah leaned forward slightly, his tone cool and final. “Thank you for participating in Silvermoon’s interview, Professor Dalton. You’ve brought a lot to light.”

There were murmurs of agreement from the board of trustees that had joined the interview online.

Dalton blinked, completely taken aback. He still hadn’t figured out that this entire interview had been a setup—a carefully constructed plan to expose him.

Elijah stood, smoothing his shirt with practiced ease.

“You’ll be losing your position,” he said, his voice as calm as ever. “Silvermoon doesn’t tolerate plagiarism, nor does the university. They won’t allow someone like you to continue educating students.”

Dalton gaped at him, too stunned to speak. I watched as the realization sank in, his eyes wide with disbelief. It was over.

After the meeting wrapped up, I turned to Elijah, my heart still pounding.

“Thank you,” I whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. I didn’t know what else to say. He had just saved me from years of false accusations, from the stain that had ruined my life.

But Elijah’s response caught me off guard.

“I didn’t trust you,” he said flatly, his eyes piercing mine. “I simply gave you an opportunity. If you could prove your innocence, then you’d have your resolution. If you had failed, or if you truly had stolen the paper, I would have acted accordingly.”

His words hung in the air like a cold wind. I stared at him, trying to make sense of it. He hadn’t trusted me?

He would have abandoned me if I had failed?

The thought stung more than I wanted to admit.

But then Elijah’s gaze softened—just slightly.

“A good Luna never lets any opportunity slip by,” he said, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “Remember that.”

I swallowed hard, my emotions swirling in a confusing mess. Part of me wanted to be angry, to lash out at him for his pragmatism. But another part of me knew he was right.

This world was harsh, and a Luna couldn’t afford to be weak.

“I will,” I replied, my voice firm.

I had proven myself today, not just to Elijah, but to the pack and, most importantly, to myself. And as I stood there, I realized that was all I needed.